


Your Personal Valentino

by M4R4N14MH



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is also clueless, Car Sex, Crowley is clueless, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Don't mess with Beelzebub, First Kiss, Gabriel can play the violin, Gabriel just needed to get away from it all, I'm running out of tags, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Jealousy, Multi, Musical angels, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, There's a reason why all the best musicians are in Hell, Very well-behaved Bentley, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4R4N14MH/pseuds/M4R4N14MH
Summary: Beelzebub tends to get distracted when they come up to the surface. Their latest escape into the human world brings about an unexpected meeting and an even more unexpected conclusion.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Your Personal Valentino

The Pub’s interior was a definite improvement to its dingy façade. Then again, Beelzebub had never really been known to care much where they frequented so long as wherever it was offered some sort of outrageously sugary beverage or snack. 

Of course, they remembered well the opium dens of 1800s London. They’d tried the drugs more out of curiosity than out of any inherent need for a high1 , but it had been rather disappointing. The Chinese had obviously shipped all the subpar product over to London, but the dens had also offered, weirdly, very sugary tea. The drug runners had apparently started peddling the overpriced cups to their addicts, claiming it enhanced the high from the opium. It didn’t, of course, but it had been enough to entice Beelzebub into visiting on several memorable occasions, so much so that the owners had often toted their presence as proof of their claims. 

It hadn’t been long before _those_ particular souls had wound up in Hell. 

Now, however, those wonderful dens had given way to bars and pubs3 and Beelzebub had switched with them. 

The Pub they now sat at, nursing a drink whose name they didn’t know but contained enough sugar to give an elephant a heart attack, was most definitely better than the dens. Far cleaner for one4 and less likely to be raided at any given moment by those annoying humans with big hats and badges. Dreadfully irritating, those things. They always made for good temptations though. 

They took another sip of their pleasantly sweet cocktail and sighed. Technically they should have returned to Hell by now. They’d collected Crowley’s report and it was currently nestled inside their jacket. But the Pub’s sign had been flashing rather invitingly, and Dagon was perfectly capable of waiting a few hours, so they’d entered. 

1920s Britain was an odd place. They’d been to America, of course, and it had been thrilling to watch the sin and vice on display even as the government had tried to crack down on alcohol. The idea of prohibition had become a sort of sensation back in Britain and speakeasies had popped up all over the place. Of course, there was no actual prohibition, but the thrill of pretending to do something illegal, of hiding from the law, had taken the public by storm. 

Which was mainly why they were enjoying this particular pub so much. Humans drank around them like there was no tomorrow5 and lust buzzed in the air as thickly as the cigar smoke. This high was even better than the sugar and Beelzebub inhaled it like a human would do oxygen. Deep inside their chest they could feel their demonic core burn just that much hotter. 

It felt _wonderful_. 

Behind them they could see a stage being set up, the Pub’s employees scurrying about as they unveiled a beautiful grand piano and one of those new microphones on a stand. The lights began to dim as they hurried off and the Prince of Hell took another slow, sickly sweet sip. 

A pretty young thing, around twenty they guessed, with golden hair and startlingly green eyes took to the microphone- to the obvious pleasure of many males in the audience and, interestingly, quite a few females. 

Beelzebub smiled into their glass. 

Oh yes, sin was quite, quite rampant here. 

A young man took to the piano and a slightly older man followed him up to the stage wielding a glossy violin. Beelzebub frowned, their eyes following the violinist curiously, something was familiar about him, but the ever-present sweet-smelling smog kept his face vague enough that it was impossible to guess why. They could tell he was handsome, in a classical way, though his hair was beginning to grow more grey than black. 

His obvious age clearly wasn’t bothering the audience and the sudden surge of lustful interest was, bizarrely, irritating. Beelzebub’s frown deepened. Such a sinful surge of emotion should have been elating, they should be feeling a heady rush, instead there was nothing but a vague feeling of possessiveness over a man they didn’t even know. 

The violinist himself ignored the various stares and appreciative whistles thrown his way, focusing instead on his instrument. 

The lights dimmed even further, and Beelzebub was about to turn away from the entertainment and back to their sugary drink when a flash of startlingly familiar colour caught their attention. 

Now the eyes of a demon are different from those of a human in many ways. One of the most useful is superior night vision. The drink forgotten on the clean bar; Beelzebub focused on where the flash originated. Their gaze zeroed in on the violinist as he lifted the instrument to rest under his chin and one of the stage lights caught his eye. 

Beelzebub nearly discorporated on the spot. 

The violinist had violet eyes. 

It couldn’t be… 

No, humans could have violet eyes, they’d seen several over the centuries. This was just unusual genes at work, that was all. 

Luckily, the pretty young girl by the microphone began to sing and the pianist began to play, providing a suitable distraction from those rather worrisome musings. The pianist’s skills were a little lacking, but he played with such boyish enthusiasm that the slightly offkey notes were easily ignored, and the singer wasn’t too bad either although her high pitch voice was a little grating. 

The song they played was almost too filthy for even Beelzebub’s ears though their senses were delighted as the twenty-something human crooned out the sinful lyrics to the drunken and lustful crowd, the swirling eddies of vice growing thicker by the minute. The violinist waited until she finished her song, to raucous applause from the audience, before he began to play himself. The singer struck up another melody in time with the soft susurrations of the violin and the pianist followed along, but both were outshone by the violinist. Every note was sweeter than all the sugar in the world and Beelzebub fancied that they could almost see the notes as they weaved through the air. The song itself was quickly forgotten, all their attention focused in on the musician and his instrument. 

It was like some sort of odd symbiosis between flesh and object, the man swaying in time with the violin’s soft melodies and the violin responding to his touch like an eager animal. It was almost breath-taking6. The entire Pub was entranced, nobody spoke, nobody moved, it was like the violinist had frozen time. 

The melody rose and fell like crashing waves, shivering through the air like a livewire. Something deep inside Beelzebub, deeper still than the flaming core of infernal energy, twisted with gleeful delight. 

But _why?_

The violin gasped out a last single shivering note and the entire Pub rose to their feet. 

A drunken standing ovation. 

Beelzebub would have found it funny if they hadn’t stood and clapped just as enthusiastically as the rest. 

The pianist looked slightly put out as the violinist bowed deeply, accepting the lauded praise with what looked like a faint blush. A slight breeze pushed through the muggy air as more revellers arrived from outside and the smoke cleared for a moment, giving Beelzebub their first clear look at the musician. 

If they’d had a heart it would have certainly skipped a beat, or even forgot to beat altogether. As the singer began to croon once more, Beelzebub watched as the Archangel _Fucking_ Gabriel walked back offstage, much to the audience’s quiet disappointment, discreetly miracling away the shiny violin. 

What the _fuck?_

They blinked, convinced that they’d somehow witnessed an illusion, some trick of the light. That conviction lasted all of five minutes as Gabriel appeared again through the backstage door and made his way to the bar. The approach of the Archangel set off all sorts of alarm bells down their spine and they wondered how he hadn’t sensed them yet. 

Oh right, the Pub, the air thickened with a thousand vices, he probably couldn’t sense anything _but_ hellish sin. A grin began to grow on their face as the Archangel sat right next to them, not even giving them a second glance. They barely managed to restrain themselves from smiling directly at him. 

Better to wait it out. 

This was too good (bad?) of an opportunity to mess up by scaring him away. 

A new girl was now screeching into the microphone, some fancy jazz number that made the smoke dance like ribbons, but Beelzebub ignored her. 

Ever so gently they began to push people away from the bar, sudden small aches they needed to stretch out with a walk, perhaps a migraine or two, maybe a surprise hook-up. And, gradually, the humans moved away, leaving Gabriel sat alone with Beelzebub and _still completely unaware they were there!_

Mentally Beelzebub shook their head in amazement. Gabriel was a sodding Archangel; he should be able to tell when he was sat right next to his hereditary enemy. He hadn’t even ordered a drink; he was just staring into the middle distance in his dark suit7, his violet eyes unfocused. 

Judging them to be suitably isolated from the violently loud crowd, Beelzebub leaned slightly closer. 

“What’zzz an angel like you doin’ in a place like thizzz?” They murmured, a gleeful grin playing on their lips. 

Gabriel jumped like he’d been stabbed, “ _Beelzebub?_ What in Heaven’s name-!” 

Beelzebub rolled their eyes, secretly pleased he hadn’t immediately tried to smite them, “It’zzz a _Pub_ you moron. A den of human vice. I’m a demon. Thizzz izz like a holiday home for me. For _you_ , though...” They trailed off, the grin quickly growing to shit-eating proportions, “What on Earth would _Michael_ zzay?” 

The blush that spread on Gabriel’s cheekbones was as hilarious as they’d expected. And... oddly warming... 

“I... well... If you must know- “ 

Beelzebub chuckled, forcing the fuzzy warmth away to the back of their mind, “And I muzzt.” 

Gabriel scowled, “ _If you must know,_ I happen to enjoy playing the violin _.”_

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow, “Really? And you juzzt happen to like playing it _in a pub?”_

Gabriel flushed darker and Beelzebub could feel a spark of anger in their counterpart, a spark that resonated far too willingly with their own soul for comfort. 

“I like to play in private.” 

Beelzebub, who had been sipping their drink, nearly spat it out, “ _Private_? You call _this_ private?” 

Gabriel shrugged, “They’re human, they don’t count.” 

Beelzebub stared, “You mean their opinionzz don’t count. They aren’t angelzz, zzo therefore they couldn’t pozzzibly form an accurate bloody azzzezzment of your zzzkillzz?” 

They frowned as Gabriel nodded along far too easily. 

“Or,” They said, interrupting Gabriel’s prepared spiel of utter bullshit from leaving his mouth, “You like being applauded.” 

Gabriel spluttered, “I do not! That... That’s pride! I am... it’s not... I am not prideful!” 

Beelzebub raised their eyebrows a further inch, “Oooh, _really?_ The _Archangel Gabriel_ playzz for a human audience knowing full well celezzztial inzztrumentzz _always_ zzound good to them, and _doesn’t_ expect applauzze?” 

They decided not to mention that his playing had been quite decent, judging from what they could remember of Before. Past their immediate infernal nature they knew they still counted as celestial and therefore capable of appreciating the full symphony of a celestial instrument, but no matter how funny it would be to stoke Gabriel’s pride just that little bit more, such a thing would be too dreadfully close to a _compliment_. And that they’d never do. 

Ever. 

Gabriel squirmed uncomfortably, “I just wanted to play the violin, if I received praise then it was merely circumstantial.” 

Beelzebub smirked, “And _lying_ azz well? You trying to go for a record or zzzomething tonight?” 

Gabriel flushed, “It is not a lie!” 

Beelzebub chuckled and took another sip, “That’zzz zzztrike _two_.” 

When they felt Gabriel begin to charge up, the heavenly energy crackling through the already overstimulated air, they sighed. 

“Wrath? Really?” 

The energy dissipated and Gabriel flushed scarlet, huffing indignantly, “Righteous fury, I’ll have you know!” 

Beelzebub rolled their eyes and took a longer draught of the liquid sugar, “Zzzure. And here I am, guilty of zzitting at a bar and drinking. I definitely dezzzerve to be zzzmited.” When Gabriel blinked a little owlishly at them Beelzebub drained the rest of the glass and signalled for another, “That wazzz _zzzarcazzm_ if you mizzzed it.” 

Gabriel huffed, “You are a demon Prince, I would get a commendation for smiting one as foul as you.” 

Beelzebub smiled, “Azzz would I for ridding Hell of an enemy azzz righteouzz azz you, and yet I haven’t.” 

Gabriel licked his lips thoughtfully and Beelzebub pretended not to stare. Behind them the song melded seamlessly into another jazz number. Gabriel scowled. 

“Dreadful instruments.” He muttered. 

Beelzebub took a sip of their new drink, which was woefully under-sugared, and glanced at him, “What? The saxophonezz?” 

Gabriel nodded, his earlier wrath now non-existent, or... directed elsewhere. 

“Noisy, inelegant, raspy things,” He said, glowering at the young saxophone player whose instrument crooned out the music along with the singer. Beelzebub smirked into their glass. 

This was... fun? 

Yes. 

Gabriel was always like this when they met. Always so quick to anger, it was almost too easy to tease him. And sitting here, feeling his low-level hatred of the brass lump crooning to the audience, was probably the best thing that had happened this past century, if they ignored the throbbing heat of the sin around them, it was almost funny. Perhaps they should try to do this more often, find out where Gabriel was going to play next, perhaps have a stab at tempting him into drinking. The cocktails the humans made were manifold, surely there was something that would spark the Archangel’s interest? Beer might be too... light. Wine could be more to his taste, him being an angel and so refined and all that bollocks8. Maybe whiskey? Or would that be too much too fast? They didn’t want to scare him off too quickly, that would ruin the fun. 

Maybe- 

“Oh, Gabriel! Gabriel! That was fantastic!” 

Startled, Beelzebub nearly spilled their drink. The first singer had suddenly materialised beside Gabriel and was hanging onto his arm, bouncing on the soles of her feet like an excitable puppy. Gabriel looked about as bemused as Beelzebub but since he was actually attached to the bouncing human, he was also looking slightly distressed. In Gabriel’s experience humans didn’t bounce. 

Shriek? Yes. 

Cower? Almost all the time. 

But bounce? 

Never. 

It was rather alarming. 

Eventually the young singer calmed down and sat herself down next to Gabriel, still clinging to the Archangel’s arm with her tiny hands, the painted claws on each finger digging into the fabric. 

“Cherry?” Gabriel asked, obviously uncomfortable. 

Cherry, apparently, beamed. 

“Your performance, Gabe, oh my **god** it was absolutely _amazing._ You should’ve seen the look on Tom’s face when you left the stage. His girlfriend was in the audience shrieking for you, he was absolutely livid! But I loved it! Everyone was completely head over heels for you! And I know you’re getting on a bit,” She winked very suggestively, “But I know you ain’t married and some of those gals out there, did you hear them? They _adored_ you! Everyone loves a musician!” 

Cherry spoke at what seemed like the speed of light and if _Beelzebub_ was completely unprepared to unpack the smorgasbord of words that they assumed to be some sort of coherent sentence9, then _Gabriel_ was completely out of his depth. The human calling him ‘Gabe’ made the Prince of Hell chuckle, just as it made Gabriel splutter, and they went to take another sweet sip. 

“You know...” Cherry smiled and Beelzebub felt tension crackle down their spine at the sudden spark of _interest_ in the human’s eyes, “I’m feeling a bit peckish right now and I know the most di- _vine_ restaurant not far from here, I’d be honoured if you’d come with me, you know...” She leaned in and Beelzebub felt the glass in their hand tremble, about to crack, “Just for a bit of _fun_.” 

Beelzebub had to physically stop themselves from tearing the human apart right there and then, the growl in their throat hurt to hold back. It took nearly everything they had to smile darkly at the presumptuous little _bitch_ and place their hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel, so utterly, utterly confused, didn’t even think to flinch. 

Cherry blinked as if just noticing them for the first time, “Oh sorry, me and my friend were just going-” 

Beelzebub smiled and they could feel their teeth sharpen in anticipation, “Are you _really?_ Well, I’ll just have to come with you.” 

Cherry laughed a little, the high pitched giggles drowning out the sound of Beelzebub’s claws growing in, “No, it’s a private dinner, I’m afraid. Who are you anyway? His agent?” 

Beelzebub laughed a little themselves, the sound cutting through the human’s pathetic giggles like a glaive, “I’m hizz girlfriend, zzweetie, and if you don’t take your fucking handzz off of him right thizzz zzecond you’ll find out how difficult it izz to zzzing without a tongue.” 

Cherry whitened like a ghost, the rouge on her cheeks standing out starkly even in the gloom of the Pub; Beelzebub grinned, and Cherry squeaked, fleeing the bar on tottering legs weighted down with bangles and beads. Beelzebub didn’t realise they had been growling until she disappeared from view. 

Their claws retracted and suddenly the bar seemed much too crowded, the smog of sin was starting to get a little choking and Gabriel looked like he could really use some fresh air. 

_Plus_ , Beelzebub thought as they guided a shell-shocked Archangel out of the Pub by his hand and snarled at any human who dared go near him, _it’s easier to get to Hell outside, less stuff on the way Down._

They planned to flee the moment their feet touched the solid earth of the wilting park near the entrance but when they glanced back and saw Gabriel still holding onto their hand, still very much trying to process what the fuck had just happened, they decided that a walk was in order. 

Maybe, if they walked far enough, their chest would ease slightly and stop being so bloody tight. 

The night was still young, and many revellers wandered the streets of London, all in various states of drunkenness and dressed to the nines for a night out with friends, Beelzebub stormed past them all, seeking a quieter place, one with less witnesses should things go pear-shaped. Gabriel trailed after them willingly, his dark suit melting into the shadows of the gloom between streetlights. Eventually they reached a quiet street, one in Mayfair if they remembered correctly, and they stopped in the middle of the deserted pavement. 

Belatedly they realised they were still holding Gabriel’s hand and they hurriedly let it go, a part of them keening at the sudden loss of warmth and contact. 

Gabriel blinked and then looked around himself, befuddled, “Where...?” 

Beelzebub huffed and tried to quash the warm thing bubbling in their chest again, “Mayfair, zztill in London.” 

Gabriel looked at them and frowned, “But we were... where’s Cherry?” 

Beelzebub felt another growl rise in their throat at the mention of that thing and they ruthlessly pushed that down too, “Wetting herzzelf, I imagine.” 

Gabriel’s violet eyes grew wide, “You didn’t...” 

Beelzebub scoffed, “No I didn’t curzze her or anything, juzzzt zzcared her a little.” 

Gabriel scowled, “What in Heaven’s name did you do that for? She's just a human-!” 

Beelzebub snarled and pushed Gabriel into the side of a car parked by the kerb, holding him there by his lapels and nearly touching noses with him. 

“That _human_ ,” They spat, “Went too _fucking_ far!” 

Gabriel frowned back, not intimidated in the slightest, “She was just talking to me, there was no need-” 

Beelzebub growled and Gabriel shut up, “By _Satan_ you are zztupid! That little bitch wazz trying to have zzzex with you!” 

Gabriel blinked, confusion evident in his purple eyes, “But... she just said she wanted to go out-” 

“Yeah, zzzure she fucking did! And then she’d try to kizzz you and you’d be too fucking zztingy to uzze a miracle on her and you’d end up having to play along!” 

Even the thought of such a disgusting creature trying to do that with Gabriel was just... oh so fucking _infuriating_! He was an Archangel, not some toy for a human bitch who was pushing her luck way too sodding far. The very _idea_ that he’d ever... 

That he would... 

_Oh_. 

_Had they ever been this close...?_

The warmth in their chest bled back in, creeping between the cold cracks until it filled up every crevice with a liquid fire that burned so pleasantly they nearly forgot Gabriel was there. Every breath around him smelled like lavender and something inside them really, _really_ liked that. Something that had been neglected for so very long that it almost felt foreign in their chest, pulsing as it fuelled the heat. Unbidden, the memory of Gabriel playing for the human crowd came back, the vision of him swaying in time with his own music as he played, how proud he looked when his audience had cheered. 

Something in them gave way and they surged forward. 

The kiss was gentler than they would have liked, probably gentler than it ought to have been considering they were a demon Prince and all, but God did it feel good. They expected Gabriel to pull away, disgusted as he always was by whatever they did, but he pulled closer, adding his own fuel to the flames. Beelzebub felt him groan and that noise made something else give way, something important, but that worry was incinerated as the fire was released. 

The kiss grew fierce and Beelzebub forced themselves even closer to the Archangel, revelling in his warmth as he buried his hands in their black hair. Those hands, after a few moments, began to wander down and Beelzebub stiffened when they reached the first button of their own suit. The kiss broke and they ended up staring into darkened indigo eyes. 

Gabriel’s lips were kiss-swollen, and Beelzebub couldn’t help but stare. 

_What in the Hell... had they just...?_

_Had they lost their fucking mind? What the fuck...?_

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow, “You don’t want to...?” 

He left the question hanging in the air and Beelzebub swallowed thickly. Was this actually happening? Now that they were thinking a bit more clearly, they could sense that something felt different. _Gabriel_ felt different. More vibrant, more _alive_ , like he’d woken up after a long nap. 

And _he_ was asking...? 

Beelzebub felt themselves grin and they snapped their fingers- the car door behind Gabriel clicking as it unlocked. They devoured Gabriel’s question in a kiss, even more searing than the last one, they honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up burning the Archangel, though Gabriel didn’t seem to mind the extra heat. 

The second time they separated, Beelzebub smirked, “Not out here, idiot.” 

Without letting go they managed to open the car’s rear door and push Gabriel inside. Laying on top of him sent even more riveting sparks of fire racing down their spine and they closed the door behind them almost as an afterthought. 

If Beelzebub hadn’t been so distracted by their prize, they might have noticed that the car itself felt a bit odd. A bit more demonic than a simple automobile should be. 

Such details were unimportant, however, as another achingly hot kiss began. Neither entity was really aware of much else besides how they touched one another. Articles of clothing were soon shed, and Beelzebub occupied themselves with exploring the pale expanse of the Archangel’s neck beneath them as Gabriel slowly rubbed circles into their bare back. In another world, instinct might have stopped them, conflicting loyalties might have torn them from one another, but right here and right now such worries were far from their minds. 

They kissed to the sound of soft violins, despite there being no radio, and they didn’t separate fully until well into the next morning. 

*** 

On the same night, at the Ritz, a different angel and demon enjoyed one another’s company in a very different way. The demon Crowley usually wasn’t one to leave his favourite new car in front of his Mayfair flat, but his angel had insisted on a pleasant walk, and Crowley had never been good at refusing his angel anything. He was just glad that the Holy water incident had been shelved, at least for now. 

For his part, Aziraphale was just as glad as his counterpart to leave that particular spat in the past and enjoy the present, despite there being a little niggling feeling in the back of his head that something rather monumental was happening _right now._

When the time came for the pair to separate10, Aziraphale suggested that Crowley should instead come back to his bookshop since it had just been renovated and he happened to have a few bottles of that very nice vintage from Italy. It hadn’t taken much to convince Crowley and they left, Aziraphale still trying to puzzle out where the sudden influx of love in London was coming from, so vibrantly different from the usual background buzz. Most perplexing.

However, the matter was quickly forgotten about when Crowley inquired into a new book acquisition. The demon even smiled, which made Aziraphale’s gut twist in that oddly pleasant way it always did when he was around Crowley. 

Though the mystery, such as it was, would never be solved by either angel or demon. 

The Bentley would make sure of that. 

It was hardly proper to invade a new couple’s privacy after all, though it did prove tricky removing all those white feathers from its upholstery. 

* * *

_1 Not that such a thing would have had much of an effect, to be entirely honest, although they did enjoy the buzz2 the chemicals induced. It was pleasantly tingly and, combined with a true high from overindulging their sugar habit, it was almost… heavenly._

_2 Pun intended._

_3 All of which had a much lower body count, more’s the pity._

_4 It has been said that flies like dirty places. Beelzebub may be the exception to that rule as their office is the cleanest in all of Hell. Granted it’s still in Hell, and therefore still filthy, but it is an important distinction._

_5 A sentiment that would come true in a few decades, give or take, but Beelzebub appreciated the enthusiasm anyway._

_6 If Beelzebub had even needed to breathe in the first place. As it was, the show was distracting enough to make them forget that humans found it disconcerting when they weren’t visibly breathing, luckily everyone else was about as distracted as they were._

_7 They ignored the happy feeling deep in their chest at seeing the Archangel wearing black. In fact, that feeling didn’t exist, nope. Not at all. Nothing to ignore in the first place. Though, if anything, the not-feeling only grew brighter, especially when they saw that he was wearing a red silk shirt. The not-feeling grew ecstatic when it saw that. Not that it existed at all, mind you._

_8 Crowley had, on occasion, let slip that Aziraphale was known to drink every so often- earning him a few angel-tempting points. Crowley did, however, neglect to mention who exactly the angel drank with and how the drinking was usually the angel’s idea in the first place. Crowley may have occasional bouts of stupidity but he wasn’t a complete moron._

_9 Her casual blasphemy was made all the funnier when it was being directed at Gabriel._

_10 After a quick passive-aggressive staring contest over who would pay the bill. Crowley never stood a chance._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again :)  
> Back with yet another distraction from my fic because, who would've guessed it, writing climaxes fucking sucks.  
> Other than that, I'm good.  
> Hope you enjoyed :)


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